


Colors

by felictsmoak



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Colors, Drabble, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, POV Oliver Queen, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felictsmoak/pseuds/felictsmoak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Analogy between Oliver and Felicity's relationship and colors descriptions.</p><p>(Oliver's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

_Red:_

  
It has always been the color of his world on fire, the color of blood he's been used to seeing in a long time. But now it's also the color of the pen she was chewing on the very first day they talked. The color of the dress she wore on their first date. It's his favorite color to see on her lips, even more when she whispers in his ear, tickling his skin with her warm breath. It's the burning ache feeling of her nails dragging down his back, the feeling of her blood racing through her veins. It's the feeling of her heart beat: strong and sounding like an echo.

  
_Yellow:_

  
It's the barely-there ache of a week-old bruise. It's the hum of fluorescent light bulbs above them, it's the scent of her perfume. It's also the color of her hair, which he used to run his fingers through in a Sunday afternoon in bed, legs and sheets tangled together. It's the light she's brought into his life. A light she's tought him to see.

  
_Blue:_

  
He could relate to that color more than any other. It has many different meanings to him. It's the feeling of being alone, cold. It's the memory of the feeling of waking up to an empty bed and cool sheets. It's the chilling realization that he wants vengeance, that he wants justice. It's the breeze coming through the empty doorway, the place where she should have been but isn’t. But it's also the color of an opportunistic flower growing where the sidewalk slabs have become uneven enough to trap mud. It's the feeling of tranquility, what he only had when she was aorund.

 

_Purple:_

  
It's a fresh bruise blooming along his face, his ribs, his chest. A deep breath seeking for air. The purple sky at the falling night. It's the feeling of her hands on his skin, patching him up. It's the heady fragrance of lavenders she used to put on a pot every Thursday.

  
_Black:_

  
It is the darkness he clouds himself in, sitting on the couch. It's the color of the limo they've been through a lot. The tuxedo he wore in their first date. It's the way she sinks her nails into him, dragging him around like they’re still two halves of the same whole. It's the color of lies. It's the void he feels when she's not around. And the thickened air when she is.

  
_White:_

  
Peace. No matter how chaotic the city is, as long as she's by his side, he's at peace. At least for seconds. And with them, seconds seems like ages.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. As always, comments and criticisms are welcome!


End file.
